Dave gets آپ a job as a waiter. soon enough, Dave also gets a katana press against your larynx. He was reciting how آپ must, yes آپ don’t have any other choice, die in order to reach eternal life. “To reach god tier,” as he states.
Now, آپ and Dave were best friends. Well, actually, آپ would like to believe آپ two still were. Many ask you, do آپ know about Dave Strider? Of course آپ do, who doesn’t?
The tip of the katana pools around your adam’s apple, it’s silent and cold. Not a single whisper would escape the blade as it slice your head onto the debris cover floor, unlike the gun pressing against your thigh. Surely, آپ had enough skill to mute a gun. Simply سے طرف کی drilling holes into certain vital points in the barrel. Thus making the exiting bullet just underneath the speed of sound, leaving it golden as ever. Though due to your lack of esteem and most all coordination, آپ will fuck up. Even with Dave’s help, آپ will fuck up. Fucking up means your scrawny پچھواڑے, گدا wrist will explode faster than the building آپ and your best friend, Dave, is standing.
“Trust me bro, this ain’t death.” Dave reassures. “It’s eternal slumber, babe.”
Dave babies you, caters to you. Always calling آپ with sweet talk lingering off the tip of his tongue, those nicknames,” babe, sweety, honey, cupcake.” Always promising آپ the downfall of corporation so آپ can get out of that shitty accountant job at your dear nana’s baking empire. آپ accept the bittersweet lies knowing, acknowledging that Dave would rather love Karkat Vantas.
آپ would mock Karkat but right now, Dave is eyeing آپ from behind those damn shades. The very shades آپ got him.
آپ are John’s Infatuation for Dave.
Is this really an infatuation? آپ sat around listening to Dave’s rambles آپ gave him his first beating and he, he gave آپ meaning. یا so it seems.
Dave kept his katana press against your throat and آپ can only speak out in vowels without piercing skin. آپ admit, the homemade عملی حکمت sword was in great quality. It doesn’t take much to make a shitty پچھواڑے, گدا sword. Gulping hard, آپ begin to pan out the process.
Steal some fucking copper from an abandon house and some metal from a car. Whether that car belong to someone یا not, that doesn’t concern you. آپ gotta act like those damn space trolls if آپ wanna climb this mountain. Let’s get to it, آپ have the metal, now supply the heat. Painstakingly melt the two together, beat the shit outta it with hammer and soak it in a bath tub filled water cold enough to make your Karkat’s دل look like a fireplace.
آپ know this because Dave knows this.
Nine minutes.
We as humans always kill what we love. Then again, that’s a double edge sword. Pun intended.
Dave leans towards آپ and with ease he guides the blade along your throat. آپ smell him. The musk mixed with Nitroglycerin but most of all, smuppets. Taken back, آپ allow your spine to curve along the back of the chair, trying to avoid Dave as much as آپ could. He knows you’re avoiding him, how? Because.
He is Dave Strider.
Eight minutes.
His shades strike a certain lighting where آپ could see the smolder glare. Your breath hike and instantly آپ were دیا a new scent, smoke.
41 stories up and 3 down from the roof, آپ only imagine the Mischief Committee of Project Scratch escaping the building just as the demolition team would run down the building The English building. Where, if they keep up this pace without single doubt in your mind, they will hit plush rump and sit off this domino.
Just as this place blows, the trolls would linger in the crowd enclosing the area. They شامل میں with the pointers and the awe’s, all but ignorant to fact that their leader is about to break your دل and get away with murder.
Seven minutes.
Tomorrow in the newspaper, photo’s would be taken at every angle and then be splash about. Poor Ms.Rose Lalonde’s front cover issue about her latest New York Time best seller would have to put on page two for your story, for your tragedy.
Five minutes.
Karkat would be the only eyewitness, the only reliable ذریعہ to this mishap. Reporters would swarm him asking,” How did آپ know Dave Strider?”
“Because I fucked that asshole.”
He replied as he flick off the cameras and storm off to some thrift store and buy another suite of the best man.
Karkat is apart of this strange love triangle. آپ want Dave, Dave wants Karkat and Karkat wants you.
آپ had admit before Dave loses his cool and finally snaps your neck with metal, that the whole point of this operation was not to fuck with the man but Karkat Vantas. This دائرے, حلقہ circles back this man: the anarchy, the explosion, the excoriation of mind and soul was for this man.
Truthfully, آپ don’t want Karkat yet he wants آپ while he ignores the fact that Dave wants him. Sure enough, Dave doesn't want you, John. Dave doesn't want آپ and wants to get rid of you. Not because he doesn't like you. It has to do with the fact that آپ are getting in his way of getting his prize. That prize being Karkat. This sick مثلث has nothing to do with love. This fuck up sex scandal has to do with ownership of property that rightfully belongs to what Dave belives is his.
Without Karkat Vantas, who is Dave Strider?
Four minutes.
You’re wasting time.
“We’ll become legend, don’t آپ want that?” He pushes the tip of his boot onto your groin, your needy, greedy groin.
Yes, آپ answer, آپ want to become a legend. Have your name spread across textbooks of he public education system. آپ نگلنا once more.
Dave, آپ croak, dude, don’t you? I’ll make آپ into a legend. Unlike those space trolls, I’ve been here since the beginning.
I remember everything.
Three minutes.
Now, آپ and Dave were best friends. Well, actually, آپ would like to believe آپ two still were. Many ask you, do آپ know about Dave Strider? Of course آپ do, who doesn’t?
The tip of the katana pools around your adam’s apple, it’s silent and cold. Not a single whisper would escape the blade as it slice your head onto the debris cover floor, unlike the gun pressing against your thigh. Surely, آپ had enough skill to mute a gun. Simply سے طرف کی drilling holes into certain vital points in the barrel. Thus making the exiting bullet just underneath the speed of sound, leaving it golden as ever. Though due to your lack of esteem and most all coordination, آپ will fuck up. Even with Dave’s help, آپ will fuck up. Fucking up means your scrawny پچھواڑے, گدا wrist will explode faster than the building آپ and your best friend, Dave, is standing.
“Trust me bro, this ain’t death.” Dave reassures. “It’s eternal slumber, babe.”
Dave babies you, caters to you. Always calling آپ with sweet talk lingering off the tip of his tongue, those nicknames,” babe, sweety, honey, cupcake.” Always promising آپ the downfall of corporation so آپ can get out of that shitty accountant job at your dear nana’s baking empire. آپ accept the bittersweet lies knowing, acknowledging that Dave would rather love Karkat Vantas.
آپ would mock Karkat but right now, Dave is eyeing آپ from behind those damn shades. The very shades آپ got him.
آپ are John’s Infatuation for Dave.
Is this really an infatuation? آپ sat around listening to Dave’s rambles آپ gave him his first beating and he, he gave آپ meaning. یا so it seems.
Dave kept his katana press against your throat and آپ can only speak out in vowels without piercing skin. آپ admit, the homemade عملی حکمت sword was in great quality. It doesn’t take much to make a shitty پچھواڑے, گدا sword. Gulping hard, آپ begin to pan out the process.
Steal some fucking copper from an abandon house and some metal from a car. Whether that car belong to someone یا not, that doesn’t concern you. آپ gotta act like those damn space trolls if آپ wanna climb this mountain. Let’s get to it, آپ have the metal, now supply the heat. Painstakingly melt the two together, beat the shit outta it with hammer and soak it in a bath tub filled water cold enough to make your Karkat’s دل look like a fireplace.
آپ know this because Dave knows this.
Nine minutes.
We as humans always kill what we love. Then again, that’s a double edge sword. Pun intended.
Dave leans towards آپ and with ease he guides the blade along your throat. آپ smell him. The musk mixed with Nitroglycerin but most of all, smuppets. Taken back, آپ allow your spine to curve along the back of the chair, trying to avoid Dave as much as آپ could. He knows you’re avoiding him, how? Because.
He is Dave Strider.
Eight minutes.
His shades strike a certain lighting where آپ could see the smolder glare. Your breath hike and instantly آپ were دیا a new scent, smoke.
41 stories up and 3 down from the roof, آپ only imagine the Mischief Committee of Project Scratch escaping the building just as the demolition team would run down the building The English building. Where, if they keep up this pace without single doubt in your mind, they will hit plush rump and sit off this domino.
Just as this place blows, the trolls would linger in the crowd enclosing the area. They شامل میں with the pointers and the awe’s, all but ignorant to fact that their leader is about to break your دل and get away with murder.
Seven minutes.
Tomorrow in the newspaper, photo’s would be taken at every angle and then be splash about. Poor Ms.Rose Lalonde’s front cover issue about her latest New York Time best seller would have to put on page two for your story, for your tragedy.
Five minutes.
Karkat would be the only eyewitness, the only reliable ذریعہ to this mishap. Reporters would swarm him asking,” How did آپ know Dave Strider?”
“Because I fucked that asshole.”
He replied as he flick off the cameras and storm off to some thrift store and buy another suite of the best man.
Karkat is apart of this strange love triangle. آپ want Dave, Dave wants Karkat and Karkat wants you.
آپ had admit before Dave loses his cool and finally snaps your neck with metal, that the whole point of this operation was not to fuck with the man but Karkat Vantas. This دائرے, حلقہ circles back this man: the anarchy, the explosion, the excoriation of mind and soul was for this man.
Truthfully, آپ don’t want Karkat yet he wants آپ while he ignores the fact that Dave wants him. Sure enough, Dave doesn't want you, John. Dave doesn't want آپ and wants to get rid of you. Not because he doesn't like you. It has to do with the fact that آپ are getting in his way of getting his prize. That prize being Karkat. This sick مثلث has nothing to do with love. This fuck up sex scandal has to do with ownership of property that rightfully belongs to what Dave belives is his.
Without Karkat Vantas, who is Dave Strider?
Four minutes.
You’re wasting time.
“We’ll become legend, don’t آپ want that?” He pushes the tip of his boot onto your groin, your needy, greedy groin.
Yes, آپ answer, آپ want to become a legend. Have your name spread across textbooks of he public education system. آپ نگلنا once more.
Dave, آپ croak, dude, don’t you? I’ll make آپ into a legend. Unlike those space trolls, I’ve been here since the beginning.
I remember everything.
Three minutes.
